You claim the obligation that requires no dedication.
You look at me dead into my eyes and speak your truth filled with wicked lies.
Empty promises to all who follow and obey your own religion.
I dream and feel destined too, but at least I don’t have a blind vision.
Hiding behind your disciples as you call yourself the savior.
Well then, don’t you dare save me- if I’m just a mortal man, what does it mean if I’m braver?
No heart and no soul.
No guts, shocked to see you’re still alive after selling the devil what you stole.
You’re the self-proclaimed messiah living in the world of gods and the warriors – you’re at the bottom of the food chain.
By all means, challenge the world starting with me. But my dear lord, since you love to self-proclaim, you can self-proclaim every ounce of this pain.